


Better than Silence

by orphan_account



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (IDW Comics)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ficlet set after IDW issue 50: Mikey leaves notes for Woody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better than Silence

The worst part is that he still gets Mikey’s letters. He has no return address, has very little idea of what happened, but he knows all about the renovations Mikey is making to his new place, wherever that is. He knows that Mikey saw three geese hold up traffic for twenty minutes. He knows that Mikey’s _grateful for the pizzas, man, but you really should stop trying to keep an eye out when you put the pies out._

Things got bad, apparently. Ninja stuff. Mikey doesn’t want to bore him with it, but he’s on the down low for a while – doesn’t want to have a run-in with his bros, which is why he doesn’t hang around Rupert’s and why he won’t give Woody anything more to go on. Woody knows that he’s _sorry about it, really, dude,_ and that he should apparently _know how it goes._

He tries to write back after the first two, folding the letter and taping it to the top of a pizza box, but he finds the letter on the ground, unopened and wet from recent rain. Next he tries tucking a shorter note inside the box: _I’m really getting worried about you, Mikester. We can meet somewhere else if you’re worried about your bros_ – but the only sign he has that Mikey’s read that one is a casual _Don’t worry about me_ in the next letter.

 _I miss you,_ he writes on the inside of the lid, next time.

Which is a mistake – who knew – because it’s radio silence for five days after that, pizza boxes left to go cold on the step outside. No letters, no notes, no signs except those he imagines, getting his hopes up.

Then, on the sixth night: A rap on his window, a curved shadow. Mikey’s head ducked down to hide his red-rimmed eyes. Whatever he’s been carrying has been too heavy for one back. Woody gets it. He holds his hand up before Mikey can slide into his room. “You don’t have to talk,” he says. “Just don’t go back into hiding. Got it?”

Mikey’s smile is weak, but it’s there. “Got it,” he says, and slips into the warmth of Woody’s home.


End file.
